


field notes

by vaporstretch



Series: commit to memory [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, Holding Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Romantic Fluff, SakuAtsu, Surprise Kissing, Touch-Starved, movie date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaporstretch/pseuds/vaporstretch
Summary: Atsumu doesn’t say anything, but instead slides his own hand on top of Sakusa’s, eventually filling in the spaces between the wing spiker’s fingers with his own. The effect is instant in the way Sakusa’s pulse accelerates, the thump of his heart forthrightly erratic.“This is another strange first,” Atsumu tilts so intimately close to Sakusa that he can almost feel Atsumu’s cheek rest on his shoulder. “Holding hands while we watch people get murdered.”---Atsumu and Sakusa go on a date over the weekend.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: commit to memory [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983235
Comments: 20
Kudos: 305





	field notes

**Author's Note:**

> and part 4 is finally here! i honestly thought this was going to be longer, but i did a lot of trimming down and paced the plot and basically ended up reserving more stuff for subsequent parts lol. 
> 
> anyway, i hope this one's okay at least. 
> 
> maybe follow me on twitter @vaporstretch__

It was during Sakusa’s junior high year when he had first sought the help of a therapist for his compulsions. While the therapist had declared that it wasn’t quite as severe as other individuals who experience the same things as he does, he had still required Sakusa to pay his clinic a visit twice a week as well as prescribed him medication he would need in case he were to even so much as sense an episode coming up. 

All those things had appeared reasonable enough for Sakusa who was just fifteen at the time and at his core still had the mentalities of an immature boy his age. But when the therapist had suggested keeping a journal, a hesitation to heed his words was apparent in the teenage condescension that followed the offer. To say that he had to control himself from giving his therapist an eye-roll would be an understatement as he unenthusiastically received the slim notebook that he was certain would be relegated to collecting dust on his bookshelf. Nonsensical, he presumed. What good would ink and paper do if nobody was going to listen on the other end? It would be like screaming at a brick wall, he concluded.

The black notebook, however, surprisingly came in handy when Sakusa entered Itachiyama as a freshman. Everything was new, unmistakably foreign. The kids from junior high who knew Sakusa enough to understand him were replaced with an entirely different group of rowdy teenagers, each hormone-induced one more self-absorbed than the last. His cousin, Komori, was assigned to a different class and so his loneliness and anxiety only grew to uncomfortable levels. Unwittingly, Sakusa turned to the notebook on his shelf, and page after page, the cathartic routine of pouring out every feeling of frustration and confusion filled the once blank spaces sandwiched between the faux leather bindings of the journal. 

Now at age 22, Sakusa has transformed jotting things down in the pages of a notebook into a full-blown habit. A routine, to be exact. He’s gone through multiple notebooks in the past, but he finds that the plain, black Moleskin one that’s easily on display in every department store to be his favorite. And on his first night back in Osaka after visiting his family, Sakusa is once again clutching a pen in one hand as he stares down at the smooth pages of the journal. He twirls the pen, then straightens out the kinks in his shoulder before he lets his tall frame slightly curl over his desk. 

The tip of the pen makes contact with the paper, but Sakusa can’t seem to find the words to write. Odd, he muses. He can’t exactly recall the last time it was _this_ particularly difficult to express himself. He lifts the pen and taps it against his temple, the burgeoning feelings of frustration already a whisper along his spine. He sits up straight, eyes still giving the inanimate object on his desk a solid stare-down, the empty canvas begging to be soiled with ink taunting him. 

He ends up scowling at the journal because Sakusa _knows_ what he wants to say. In fact, it's so glaringly, _embarrassingly_ obvious what precisely has been nagging at the very forefront of his mind. But the undesirable mixture of shame, denial, and guilt sits thick in his chest, occasionally seeping upwards to an uncomfortable choke in his throat. He feels like the moment he opens up, it will end up becoming a big messy spill, one of an entirely different caliber from his previous journal entries. 

Eventually, he halts the internal fussing and bites the bullet. The pen's tip lands on the paper once more, a splotch of dark ink embellishing the once spotless surface. Sakusa grits his teeth in annoyance as he lets his hands move. It's not much for the time being, but it's two sentences at least.

_I touched myself twice while thinking about my boyfriend. It felt absolutely euphoric and incredibly disgusting._

***

Another day of training and conditioning, another day of Atsumu turning to volleyball which has always provided him with a convenient escape route when matters of life become too overwhelming.

The gang is finally back together with Sakusa having returned to Osaka just a week ago. He's also returned to joining the rest of the team for training ever since the team doctor did a follow up on his injury, officially giving him the greenlight to do low-intensity exercises and moderate drills. 

Atsumu has just taken a break from setting, choosing to stand on the sidelines as he takes easy swigs of his sports drink. His eyes survey the scene before him as their second-string setter Ryugazaki continues to assist with the spiking drills. Atsumu, initially intent on analyzing the other setter, ends up having to shift his attention entirely when he hears the loud Bokuto Kotaro cheering from the end line.

"Give it your best, Kiyoomi-kun!" Bokuto hollers.

The preliminary receive is effortless and fluid, the approach elegant and swift, the leap powerful and mystifying, and then there's the earth-shattering cut shot--a glorious culmination of everything that is so brilliant about Sakusa Kiyoomi as an athlete. 

It doesn't escape Atsumu how much respect he continues to have for Sakusa’s immaculate display of skill and technique. He was already rather impressed with him during their high school years when he had heard that a fellow second year student from Tokyo had been heralded as one of the top three aces of the nation. 

He managed to live up to his notoriety when Atsumu had the privilege of seeing his abilities up close during the All-Japan Youth Training Camp. Powerful, precise. Quick on his feet, slow to panic. Atsumu couldn’t help but acknowledge the efforts the wing spiker must have definitely put into being the best he could be. As a result, it would have been an outright lie to think that he wasn't at the initial stages of developing a crush on the taller city boy with the dark eyes and the equally dark curls.

_A ruthless bastard_ , he thinks. But it's a sentiment that's dense with admiration and pride.

Atsumu hears a wolf whistle from his left and he sees that it's their captain.

“A top ace in high school, MVP in the collegiate level, and already a super rookie in the pro leagues," Meian remarks. "Sakusa seems too good to be true, am I right?"

Atsumu laughs. "Guess you could say that. Just glad that he's real and gracing us with his presence."

It was Meian's turn to laugh. "You just sounded like one of his fangirls. But yeah I get it. We're lucky to have him on this team."

The blond maintains his gaze on Sakusa who is already walking to the sidelines. "Yeah. Lucky us."

  
  
  


Practice ends late in the afternoon, just on the cusp of dusk. Sakusa is slumped against one of the walls as he brushes away sweaty curls from his forehead. He stretches out one leg and begins to massage it carefully. Just as he was about to run his hand down his calf, a shadow casts over him and he looks up to see who it belongs to.

Atsumu doesn't say anything, but merely stands there with his water bottle in hand.

Sakusa drops his gaze and turns his attention back to his legs. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about anything."

"Who said I was worried?" Atsumu tells him. "I already know how well you take care of yourself, okay."

Somehow those words make Sakusa blush and he ends up concentrating even harder on his cool down stretches. Once he's done, he notices that Atsumu is still there. The sound of the whistle followed by their coach telling them to go change in the locker rooms immediately brings Sakusa out of his semi-daze. His eyesight however, remains level to Atsumu's thigh and something inside him causes his hand to reach out and quite _almost_ grazes the flesh with his knuckle, but instead he resigns to pinching the hem of Atsumu's shorts and giving it a tug.

The way Atsumu flinches in response should have made Sakusa withdraw his hold from the fabric, but instead he lets it linger there, the very tip of his finger ghosting the inside hem of the shorts, just a fraction of an inch away from a possible skin on skin contact with Atsumu's thigh.

"Geez, Omi-kun," Atsumu says. "You trying to pull my pants down or something?"

Sakusa looks up at him and extends a hand. "Help me up?"

Atsumu gives the wing spiker a coquettish grin. "Anything for you."

They hold hands as Atsumu pulls Sakusa up from his sitting position, and even though the latter is already well set on his own two feet, the clasp of palm against palm remains and it makes Sakusa feel just a bit lightheaded. 

"Movie date," Atsumu blurts randomly. "With me. This weekend."

Sakusa wants to kiss him so badly, but they're not exactly in an ideal situation to lock lips. This doesn't however deter him from looking at Atsumu's mouth before he comes up with his response.

"Sure," Sakusa utters weakly. 

The setter smiles then removes his hand from their joint grip. "Looking forward to it."

The two soon begin to stride toward the locker rooms, maintaining the smallest gap between them.

"What film are we watching in particular?" Sakusa asks.

"You'll find out this weekend," Atsumu replies. "And no it's not gonna be one of those boring films you watch."

Sakusa bumps him with his shoulder. "They're not boring. You just don't get them."

"Whatever," Atsumu huffs. "All I'm saying is that this movie we're seeing is perfect for the season."

"What? Fall?"

Atsumu stops in his tracks then turns to Sakusa, sly smirk already on his lips. "You're getting warmer."

***

One look at Atsumu and it would be easy to dismiss him as the kind of guy who only enjoys comedy and action movies.

Technically, the second one isn't entirely off the mark since he does admittedly like superhero movies. However, the genre of movie Atsumu deems particularly entertaining are horror films. Gore, slasher, supernatural. He's seen it all, and over the years, he's been able to tell a good horror from a bad one. Thus, as a self-proclaimed horror connoisseur it was only expected of him to look forward to a certain cult classic slasher film that's finally premiering over the weekend.

"Halloween?" Sakusa is looking up at the movie poster, the infamously eerie Michael Myers mask staring right back at him. " _This_ is what we're watching?"

"Yeah!" Atsumu replies brightly. "It's an entire film franchise and this is the eleventh movie to come out."

"And I suppose you've seen the previous ten?" 

Atsumu snorts. "Duh, Omi-kun. Of course I've seen them."

He notes the way Sakusa is almost sizing up the poster. "But hey uhh, if scary stuff's not your thing, we can always see something else."

The wing spiker turns to him, and while any ordinary person might consider the expression as indiscernible due to the face mask that obscures more than half his mug, Atsumu has already grown so familiar with even his smallest tells--the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the furrowed brows, the distinct manner which he squints, and right now, the way his incredulous gaze lands on the setter.

"Or not," Atsumu says.

Sakusa clears his throat. "Don't assume for one second that I get scared easily. I'll have you know that I watched the entirety of Interview with the Vampire."

Atsumu can't help but snicker at the indignant response. "Omi-kun, just because you watched all the Twilight movies doesn't mean you have a tolerance for horror."

A scowl instantly forms on Sakusa's face. "I did _not_ watch Twilight. And FYI, Interview with the Vampire is quite dark and grotesque."

"Sure," Atsumu replies, rascal smile growing wide. "Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt playing house with a young Kirsten Dunst is definitely the stuff of nightmares."

Sakusa rolls his eyes at him. "Whatever. Let's just go watch this damn movie."

  
  


The film so far is doing nothing for Sakusa. At this point, all the scenes easily fall under formulaic horror trope conventions (or at least to the extent that Sakusa is familiar with), that everything feels predictable. To be fair, they are _only_ thirty minutes into the movie. However, Atsumu is already so far gone. In fact, Sakusa is absolutely convinced that Atsumu had strapped on his horror enthusiast hat the moment the trailers ended. He has to admit that it is rather amusing and endearing to see this side of Atsumu. And on occasion, as he spares a casual glance at the boy beside him, Sakusa feels an inexplicable tug in him--this impulse to press his mouth against Atsumu’s mouth in the darkness of the theater. 

_What am I thinking?_

The audience gasps, reminding Sakusa that he is, after all, still watching a scary slasher film. The rising tension of the current scene goes unnoticed, and so Sakusa too watches with bated breath as one of the characters scrambles to save herself from the killer by crawling from one bathroom cubicle to another. 

“They’re both going to die,” Atsumu whispers, a trace of awe in his voice. “This Michael Myers...he’s written differently.”

Sakusa leans in, cheek almost skimming the top of Atsumu’s head. “What do you mean? Isn’t he always like that?”

“No,” Atsumu answers back. “His victims are usually teenagers. _This_ Michael here is killing just about anyone.”

“And you don’t find that just as revolting?” Sakusa inches closer, his mask definitely grazing the shell of Atsumu’s ear. 

Atsumu remains unmoving. “I find it...fascinating.”

“Oh?” Sakusa bumps Atsumu’s arm with his elbow. “Should I be worried?”

A hushed chuckle slips out of Atsumu.”You’re the last person I would hurt, Omi-kun. Unless if you’re into that.”

_I want to touch him._

He notices Atsumu’s hand on the armrest and the absentminded way his fingers are tapping the hard plastic surface. But then Atsumu ends up lifting his hand and withdrawing it from its position, folding it instead on his lap.

The scene in the movie reaches a terrifying crest when the killer grabs one of the characters and lifts her off of her feet to strangle her. Their fellow moviegoers react accordingly to the visceral display of violence on screen, but Sakusa’s mind, on the other hand, is muddled with Atsumu’s words.

_You’re the last person I would hurt, Omi-kun._

“Hey,” Atsumu whispers from beside him. “You okay? That scene just now was kinda intense so, I uhh just wanted to check if, you know--”

Sakusa nudges him with his hand, palm faced up. He’s grateful for the pitch black dark of the movie theater as it conceals the heat that’s definitely starting to bloom on the high points of his cheeks and on the tips of his ears. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything, but instead slides his own hand on top of Sakusa’s, eventually filling in the spaces between the wing spiker’s fingers with his own. The effect is instant in the way Sakusa’s pulse accelerates, the thump of his heart forthrightly erratic. 

“This is another strange first,” Atsumu tilts so intimately close to Sakusa that he can almost feel Atsumu’s cheek rest on his shoulder. “Holding hands while we watch people get murdered.”

“Shut up.”

  
  


They don’t speak for the rest of the movie, but their fingers stay intertwined until the credits begin to roll.

  
  
  


They go to eat after the movie, opting for a light snack since it was still too early for dinner. Coincidentally, a patisserie cafe is only a short walk from the theater.

“So?” Atsumu slips beside Sakusa in the booth they’ve chosen at the far end of the cafe. “How did you feel about the movie?”

Sakusa is in the middle of his routine of sanitizing his area, concluding with a healthy spritz of rubbing alcohol in his hands. “Think I’ll give it an eight out of ten. I mean, it’s a slasher film and it definitely fulfilled its purpose.”

“Yeah, but how did you _feel_ about it?” Atsumu asks as he peels back the acetate from his cake slice.

“What do you mean?” Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him, hands occupied with unwrapping his custard bun. “You’re asking if it _moved_ me or something?”

Atsumu waggles his fork at Sakusa. “Look, I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt ‘cause you haven’t seen any of the other Halloween installments.”

“Hmm...so it’s a date then?”

The setter pauses in the middle of stabbing his cake with the fork. “Huh?”

“There are ten other movies, right?” Sakusa points out. “Walk me through them then.”

“Oh uhh, yeah. Sure,” Atsumu knows he’s probably blushing, but at this point, he just doesn’t care anymore. While that ‘unspoken of phone call’ remains safely tucked in some corner of Atsumu’s mind (and hopefully Sakusa’s as well), he’s gotten more used to embracing the more ‘innocent’ responses his body makes when they’re simply falling into these affectionate exchanges.

“That looks good,” Atsumu comments, eyeing the pastry in Sakusa’s hand.

“Would you like to have a bite?” Sakusa offers, bringing the bun in front of Atsumu.

_Is this happening? The Sakusa Kiyoomi actually feeding me?_

“You sure?”

Sakusa nods. 

Just as Atsumu leans in, mouth ready to enclose around the golden exterior, Sakusa retracts and instead raises the bun to his own mouth. 

_I knew it was too good to be true._

“You’re not going to get the filling with one bite,” Sakusa mumbles to himself. He begins to take a cautious bite out of the bun, then hangs back a moment before taking another one. He stops when finally a decent amount of the custard filling oozes out.

“Here,” Sakusa says. “You can instantly taste the custard with this bite.”

Atsumu was close to actually pinching himself to confirm whether or not he’s caught in some shoujo manga fever dream. In fact, he almost anticipated the exaggerated flurry of sakura petals to come sweeping in at any given moment, but alas it never happens because it’s real. Not some made up, cheesy romance confined in the panels of a manga, but a real life scenario that’s _literally_ happening to him.

“Atsumu, are you going to take a bite or what?” Sakusa asks.

“Well uhh don’t mind if I do,” Atsumu sinks his teeth into the soft bread, his mouth quickly fills with the sweet, thick custard. He pulls away then chews, nodding in contentment over the saccharine flavors swirling on his tongue.

“Good?” 

Atsumu nods again. He chews and chews and--

“Ah, shit!” 

“Hey,” Sakusa puts a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. “Something wrong?”

“I think I bit my tongue,” Atsumu winces. “And I think I’m actually tasting blood.”

The setter knew better than to expect a smidgen of sympathy from his boyfriend because instead of a reassuring pat or some other variation of expressing concern, Sakusa outright snickers.

“Wow okay go ahead and laugh at my pain,” Atsumu mocks bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Sakusa says, but the distinct cadence in his voice suggests that he’s not done poking fun at Atsumu. “It’s just that I think there’s something quite _poetic_ in seeing you bite your own tongue when you can’t keep your mouth shut for more than ten seconds.”

_So that’s how you want to play._

Atsumu cocks his head, an apparent sneer already on his face. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to recall you particularly _enjoying_ my voice during a certain phone call.”

The shock in Sakusa’s expression is so immediate that Atsumu realizes straight away what he just said. Usually, when he blurts out something stupid or tactless, it takes a good thirty seconds for the remorse (if ever there’s any) to settle in. But this time, it’s different. And he finds himself matching the same way Sakusa’s eyes have widened and the way his face has turned crimson red in mortification.

_Fuck._

Sakusa inhales sharply, his mouth pressed into a tight line, but overall, he’s already managed to look more generally neutral. 

“W-we should just forget I said any of that,” Atsumu quickly tells him. “Okay, Omi-kun?”

The white noise of the cafe becomes jarringly loud as Sakusa withholds his response. There’s definitely tension brewing between them, although not quite of an extreme variety as to trigger an onslaught of nervous rambling from Atsumu. Instead, the two athletes eat in silence and they clear up their table in silence afterwards. 

It’s nearly dark out, quite expected when it’s autumn and the days are much shorter. Atsumu spots the moon’s crescent silhouette in the distance, and he’s suddenly overcome with an urge to tell Sakusa how much the moon’s form in the cloudy horizon reminds him of the Cheshire Cat’s smile from Alice in Wonderland. But of course, his mouth remains shut as they continue to walk side by side, eventually turning a corner and into a quiet residential area that’s only a few blocks away from their dormitory.

_I should just say something._

“Hey Om--”

The rest of Atsumu’s words get caught in his throat when Sakusa swiftly pulls him into a dark alleyway. And the setter, still reeling from the sudden and unprompted act, is now blinking back at Sakusa in bewildered frustration.

“What the hell, Omi-kun?!” Atsumu snaps.

However, all the fight in Atsumu dissipates in a heartbeat when he feels strong hands shove his shoulders against a rough brick wall. He scrambles to make sense of the situation ( _Is he that pissed off? Are we going to fight?)_ , but everything ends up happening at lightning speed. Sakusa pulling down his mask. Sakusa telling him to shut up. And finally, Sakusa angling his head and pressing his warm mouth against Atsumu’s moderately agape one.

The tendrils of heat from an unconcentrated source in Atsumu’s body immediately spread like wildfire. Rabid and untamed, it blazes liquid heat from the balls of his feet to the very ends of the hair on his head. It dawns on Atsumu as he drowns in these unforgiving sensations that this is the first time they’ve kissed since that one evening they spent in Sakusa’s room. Coincidentally, this instant clandestine encounter _also_ involves watching a movie.

_God bless the gift of cinema._

Atsumu instinctively grips the front of Sakusa’s sweater, kissing the taller boy with equal fervor. It doesn’t go on for any longer than a minute when Sakusa pulls back, gasping and panting like he’s just emerged from a cold swim. 

“So I guess we’re cool now?” Atsumu says, voice weakened and strained.

Sakusa answers with fingers pushing stray hairs out of Atsumu’s forehead, a gesture so acutely tender it makes Atsumu want to implode.

Then he plants a kiss on Atsumu’s forehead, another on his cheek, and a last one on his already kiss-bitten pair of lips.

_This is how I die._

“Come on,” Sakusa tells him, feet already shuffling to exit the alley. “Let’s go home.”

If Atsumu wasn’t so dumbstruck, he would have whipped out a cheesy reply and said how Sakusa _is_ home. But this shared memory is far too precious to be ruined with clichéd one-liners. So he catches up instead to Sakusa and they continue to walk side by side. Only this time, their elbows are close enough to rub against each other.

“Hey, Omi-kun.”

“What?”

“Doesn’t the moon look like the Cheshire Cat’s smile?”

Sakusa tilts his head to the sky. “I guess it does.”

“Cool, huh?”

“Quite.”

***

Sakusa Kiyoomi easily fills up nearly ten pages of his journal that evening.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i really hope i pulled off part 4 with sufficiently okay colors orz
> 
> many thanks again for all the kind comments and kudos i received on the earlier parts of the series [virtual hugs]
> 
> thank you again and umm yes i'm on twitter (@vaporstretch__) so if you want to yell about sakuatsu or haikyuu in general, i'm just there lol.
> 
> If it isn't clear by, i have mainly anchored my characterization of atsumu on that one time kita gave him a care package when he was sick and how he really appreciated it. Just a boy who is capable of being sappy when he feels loved lol. 
> 
> additional stuff about this installment:  
> -yes i did rewatch halloween for this  
> -i really like the idea of atsumu loving horror movies (and sorta seeing that as a point of bonding between him and Sakusa)  
> -will we see more dates in the future? who knows? 
> 
> take care, folks!


End file.
